


Thought Processes of the Exhausted

by AmyPound



Series: The Things We Don't Like to Discuss [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Sleep Deprivation, Slow Build, Unacknowledged sexual tension, Unintentional Physical Proximity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 09:25:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5042887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyPound/pseuds/AmyPound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara cannot sleep and she convinces herself that's fine. Apparently however, she is not alone in her predicament. What follows is a series of compromises about the things they actually discuss. Everyone skirts around explicitly discussing other things though. </p><p>Because that will end well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thought Processes of the Exhausted

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place sometime after "Not Quite a Lullaby" and "Under the Lake".

Clara wasn’t sure when or how, but _it_ had become _a thing_. Her and the Doctor. Sharing a bed. Sleeping together. Literally, _sleeping_ together, a thing they did. When she was in the TARDIS, the Doctor was in her bed, and some rare times, she in his. It was some of the best sleep she had ever had.

Unfortunately, tonight was not one of those nights.

It was a Tuesday. She’d see the Doctor tomorrow and get a good night sleep then, she reminded herself. But seeing as she couldn’t sleep tonight, she had gotten back out of bed and attempted to get more grading done. She could never get enough grading done it seemed, especially if her Wednesdays turned into a week or more before she got to Thursday.

It was late, Clara didn’t know precisely how late, nor did she really want to. She was pouring over her student’s latest essays and making good progress so she had that in her favor. She’d attempt sleep again when the last of the essays was graded or she collapsed from exhaustion before the Doctor could show up tomorrow. Whichever came first. 

She was lost in yet another essay about _Romeo and Juliet_ when she heard an all too familiar whooshing sound. Clara, however assumed it was wishful thinking on her part, and went back to grading.

When the Doctor stepped out of her bedroom she didn’t even look up. It took him clearing his throat pointedly for her to even acknowledge him.

Clara dared not look up. “It’s Tuesday.” When the Doctor didn’t reply, she continued. “What are you doing here?”

“Never mind that,” the Doctor said, collapsing on her sofa.

Clara sighed, “Alright,” and went back to grading.

The Doctor groaned loudly. “Oh, do you have to?”

“Doctor, it’s Tuesday, I do,” Clara insisted.

“But you’re not even enjoying it!” the Doctor shouted. He stood from the sofa and rested against the table, trying to angle himself between Clara and her work. He picked up the essay she had just finished grading.

“One more essay and I’m all yours,” Clara glanced up at him and caught his eye. “I promise,” she added before swallowing nervously at the intense look he was giving her. They both turned to the papers in their hands.

Unfortunately Clara’s peace and quiet was shattered before she could finish reading the next sentence. “You’re giving this a passing grade?!” Ah good. An indignant Doctor was _just_ what she needed right now. “They barely understood the argument they were making. The evidence—"  

“He,” Clara said pulling the paper from his hands, “is a child who has made great progress this year.”

The Doctor remained in his half seat on Clara’s desk. After about a minute he broke his silence. “It’s Wednesday now, apparently has been that way for a while.”

“Really?” Clara asked looking at her watch. It read 2:04. “Oh fuck me!” Clara moaned. She buried her face in her hands. “Oh god, maybe I should wait to finish grading this until later because I am just too tired right now. For everything.”

Clara finally looked up at the Doctor. Suddenly everything clicked into place. This Doctor looked older, that was a given, but dark circles under his eyes and the seemingly deeper lines on his face told her everything she needed to know. She sighed. “Give me another five minutes to finish this,” she said gesturing to the paper, “and then meet me in my bed.”

“Oh Clara,” The Doctor gave her a small smile, “I bet there are a lot of people who’d die to hear you say that.”

“And if you don’t let me finish this you will be one of the dead ones, exhaustion or no,” Clara replied with a small smile of her own.

“Yes boss,” the Doctor said jumping out of the way of Clara’s half-hearted smack. Shortly thereafter, Clara put away her grading and made her way back to her bedroom. The Doctor was laying on his back, no doubt contemplating the deep secrets of the universe through the pattern of fake stars on her ceiling she’d added not long after they began travelling together. “These stars in no way accurate,” or mock her. That worked too.

“Last person who made fun of my stars got kicked out of my bed.” Clara climbed into bed and rested her head on the Doctor’s shoulder.

The Doctor hummed thoughtfully as he wrapped his arm around her. “I’d hate to travel all this way for you to exile me to the sofa.”  

Clara tried very hard not to think about how she and the Doctor had grown physically closer as they continued sleeping together. For all he seemed to reject any physical affection in their waking hours, he more often than not was the one to seek it out in their bedrooms. At first, Clara often found his arm slung across her waist or shoulders as she was falling asleep. She had assumed it was a way of psychically encouraging sleep without the risk of nightmares. However, lately even if they started out on opposite sides of the same bed they’d inevitably end up tangled together in a mess of limbs and sheets. They were both more than a little needy in the dark, and the Doctor showed that by being handsy. And now even the daytime limits were beginning to blur. Not that she was complaining.  

In fact she didn’t think about it much at all. First, she was afraid that if she made a big deal about it one way or the other, everything would stop, and that was unacceptable. Just…Unacceptable.

“Yes, well,” Clara mumbled as she snuggled in closer, “I’ll make you a deal. You can stay tonight, you can even fix the stars however you see fit, tomorrow, if you shut up and go to sleep now.”

When there was no immediate reply Clara assumed he had fallen asleep. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She nearly drifted into sleep when she felt lips brush her hair line. “Thank you, Clara,” The Doctor whispered. “Sleep well.”

Unfortunately Clara didn’t think her racing heart would allow that any time soon.

Clara must have found sleep eventually, however, as she woke to her phone blaring “Heroes” by David Bowie.

“What the?” The Doctor shouted as he too jolted awake. Clara fell to the side as he Doctor whipped his sunglasses on his face. He must have quickly realized what was happening as he quickly collapsed against the bed. Clara could feel him roll to the side so she opened one eye. He lowered the sunglasses and raised one eyebrow. “Why do you have an alarm at this awful hour?”

Clara sighed and rolled to face him. “Because I have work this morning, Doctor.” She reached across him and grabbed her phone, quickly turning off the alarm. 

“It never goes off on the TARDIS,” the Doctor moaned and rolled into her, pulling her even closer than she had been.

“Because on the TARDIS it’s whatever time I need it to be to get to work, or wherever,” Clara tried to roll away from the Doctor, but his arms only tightened around her. “Doctor, let me up.”

“Why?”

“I have to go to work,” Clara said with a sigh.

“Time traveler,” the Doctor grumbled. “Work when you want.” He pushed himself on one elbow. “It’s the same basic principle that justifies your lack of an alarm on the TARDIS.”  

“Fix my stars while I’m gone, and then you can take me to whatever part of the universe you decide to put on my ceiling,” Clara pleaded, small pout with wide eyes and all. “If you’d like that, that is." 

“You really think that will work on me?” The Doctor gave her a small glare. When Clara’s pout intensified he continued, “Clara, I am over two thousand years old, I have been giving puppy eyes, and been quite immune to them, for centuries.” Clara doubled down on her pout. The Doctor said nothing for a few moments longer. He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine.”

Clara nodded and patted his cheek. “That’s more like it.” Clara climbed out of bed and made her way to the loo. As she finished her morning routine, trying her hardest not to spare a thought to…to whatever happened as she was falling asleep.

Clara couldn’t hear the Doctor was up to, and that rarely meant anything good. She poked her head into her living room. The Doctor was just walking back in carrying two cups of coffee. “I know I assumed and,” he looked up at her, almost, dare she say bashful, “I wanted to thank- I know I was imposing-coffee?” He held up the coffee but dared not look her in the eye.

Clara walked over to him and cupped his face gently. “And people think you’re nothing but a rude alien.”

The Doctor smirked. “Well, I am.”

“Yeah, no arguments from me.” Clara took the coffee from him and took a sip, her smile growing.

The Doctor scoffed. “Well, that’s a first.”

Clara shoved him gently with her free hand. “How dare you!” Clara cried in mock exasperation.

“Oh, how dare I?” The Doctor rolled his eyes. “You just called me a rude alien.”

“And you agreed!”

The Doctor took a small sip of his own coffee. “Semantics, Clara, semantics.”

Clara shook her head. “I need more coffee if this is the mood you’re in.”

“And why do you think I got myself some?”

Clara would have come up with some clever retort, but unfortunately she glanced at the clock first. “Shit,” She muttered under her breath. “I’m gonna be late if I don’t leave now.” She quickly gathered up her things and downed her coffee. As she was headed out the door, Clara rocked up on her tip toes and kissed the Doctor’s lips. “See you after school.” She shouted over her shoulder. “Fix my stars.”

Clara was honestly slightly surprised to see the Doctor followed her out the door when she looked back. “I’ll see you after school,” he confirmed. She climbed onto her bike. “I won’t even go far if I leave.” The Doctor looked ready to say something more, but he seemed to reconsider with a small frown and shake of his head.

It wasn’t until Clara arrived at school she realized what she had done.

She had kissed the Doctor. And not even a grateful peck on the cheek.

 _She had kissed him_. And she hadn’t even thought about it, like it was the most natural thing in the universe.

Huh.


End file.
